The Little Things
by AmazinglyMe
Summary: Alicia Spinnet realizes she doesn't know a lot of things about George Weasley, and sets out on a mission to notice the little things about her surroundings. And if that includes George Weasley, is that such a bad thing? [COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I won't say anything except yes, this will be chaptered, and please read and review! _

* * *

Have you ever just had one of those mornings? You know, the ones where your alarm clock doesn't go off and it just all goes downhill from there? Everybody has those mornings. I'm no exception. And on the particular morning that I'm about to tell you about, not only had my alarm clock not gone off, but my two best friends had decided it wasn't worth their time to wake me up. 

Seriously.

When I opened my eyes the first thing I noticed was that the dormitory room was fully lit, which seemed odd. It was only on weekends (and weekends without Quidditch games for that matter) that I slept this late. For a second I basked in that wonderful weekend feeling, the sunlight filtering in through the open window and lazily illuminating the curtain around my four poster.

Of course, you can only bask in that wonderful weekend feeling if it's, you know, actually the weekend, which it turns out it wasn't.

"Katie we've got to wake her up!"

"But look at her, she looks so -- so peaceful!"

"_Peaceful?_ She's not going to be very peaceful if she's late!"

Late.

I am **never** late.

I sat up so fast and so straight that I made my neck hurt. The four poster next to me was suspiciously empty of anyone, sleeping or otherwise. Standing in front of my four poster, surveying the scene, were Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell. Angelina had spotted the fact that I was awake but Katie was still talking.

"Well sometimes I think she needs a little extra sleep, she must have been up until all hours doing her Potions homework --"

"Which I won't be able to turn in if I'm late for class!" I interrupted, jumping out of bed. Satisfied that I had woken up Angelina took advantage of my distraction (the distraction being that I was quite annoyed and more than a little panicked) to reclaim the bathroom before I could get to it. Katie perched on the four poster next to mine, watching me as I dashed around the room.

Katie's actually not in our year, but since she's an (annoyingly in my opinion) early riser, she's taken to coming into our dorm in the mornings and then going down to breakfast with us.

"Where's my hairbr--" I began, scanning the room for my hairbrush in vain.

"Bedside table." Angelina called from the bathroom.

I spun around, stubbed my toe on the bedside table, yelped, and knocked the hairbrush onto the floor.

It wasn't just one of those mornings, it was one of **those** mornings.

You'd think if I was going to choose a morning to introduce you to me and my friends it wouldn't be a morning on which I got up late and our dorm was chaos. But it was on this morning that I first noticed George's thumbs, and I think that was honestly where the entire story started.

Only someone like me could start a story with thumbs. Because who else do you know who falls in love with thumbs?

Sometimes I swear there's something wrong with me.

* * *

I'll say this for Angelina and Katie -- they waited for me to get ready before they went down to the Great Hall, so that we could all go to breakfast together. But we had to stuff food into our mouths and run. We hardly had a chance to say good morning to Fred, George, and Lee. 

Hmmm, the observant among you will be saying, she's mentioned George's name before. Let's see…Oh yes. She said she fell in love with his thumbs. Huh.

George is George Weasley, red-haired prankster. He and his twin (that would be Fred) and their best friend (Lee) are our resident havoc-wreakers. They prefer to be called 'Expert Mayhem Consultants' though. Yeah, I know. Whatever.

The twins, Lee, Angelina, and I all had our first class together that day -- Potions.

We made our way down stairs into the ever increasing gloom of the dungeons. I swear, every year Snape cultivates more mold on those damp stone walls.

The 7th year Gryffindors filed into the Potions classroom with something that was definitely less than enthusiasm. Snape hates Gryffindors more than he hates anyone, and he lets us know it every time we venture into his class.

We handed in our essays and spent the next half an hour listening to a lecture on the proper brewing of a Shrinking Solution, since Snape said we were in (and I quote) "desperate need of a review" lest we fail every exam he gave for the rest of the year. Apparently our last assignment had been less than satisfactory. Getting a lecture from Snape is akin to nothing more than it is akin to getting a lecture from a large, sarcastic bat.

Since I actually did know how to brew a Shrinking Solution, I was bored out of my mind. I may be a good student (and I like to think I am) but Snape makes my teeth grind. To put it simply, I tuned him out after the first five minutes.

The dungeon didn't provide much to catch my interest. It's a dark room with shelves lining the walls. There are jars on the walls, sure, but they're full of green liquid, and I don't like to speculate over the stuff floating in that liquid. Ugh.

So instead my eyes began picking my friends out of the crowd.

Can I help it if George was sitting right across from me, along with Fred and Lee?

Is it my fault if his hands were lying on the table in front of him?

It was a complete coincidence, and nothing anyone says will ever change my mind. I cannot be blamed for the sequence of events that led to that pivotal moment.

What moment was that you ask?

The moment when my eyes landed on his thumbs.

His skin was slightly tan, since he had been outside all summer, and it was only September. The nail of his right thumb was longer than that of his left. His left thumb nail was ragged, one end was higher than the other. There was a freckle on the knuckle of his right thumb. A small cut, half-healed, marred his left thumb.

I sat there, staring at George Weasley's thumbs, for something that must have bordered on five minutes. Because I had never noticed those thumbs before.

And that made me think.

There must be a million and one little things that I don't notice, every day.

I bet this has happened to you.

Think about it.

There's probably a street you go by every day. Maybe you drive down it, or maybe you walk down it. Maybe it's the street you work on, maybe it's the street where you live. But there has to be one street you see every day, that you've seen every day for a very long time.

Now, think about that street.

How many streetlights are on it?

You pass by those streetlights every day, but I bet if you wanted to know how many there were, you'd have to go count.

I had known George since my second month at Hogwarts. I'd fancied him since my second year. Now I was in my seventh year and I had just realized I had never noticed his thumbs. And (confidentially) I _really_ liked his thumbs.

It was enough to weird me out. In fact, it was almost enough to worry me. I mean, who knew what kinds of things I just…didn't notice? It wasn't worry exactly -- that's the wrong word for it. But it distressed me, and it intrigued me.

So when I got back to my dorm that night, I wrote two things on a scrap of parchment.

_1.) Pay more attention to the little things. _

_2.) Note to self: George's thumbs are cute._

_

* * *

_

_A/N: Well, this is it. This is my stab at putting a personal spin on George x Alicia -- I'm going to attempt a chaptered fic. I guess its been in the works for a while. Thanks a lot everybody who reviewed "Love, Thy Name Is..." and "George Weasley and the Disappearing Four Poster." Oh, and thanks v. much Jagged Epiphany. She pointed out: "_Ha. If flattery fails, turn to bribery." _Obviously very true, since here I am, writing this. She promised to update Castles sooner! Ha:P _

_ Please let me know what you thought of it, and thanks very much for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Sorry this took a while -- I actually went somewhere, though not far from home, for Spring Break. Anyway, here is the second chapter. :) _

* * *

The very first thing I did the next morning when I woke up was scan my dormitory. I found, to my slight surprise and interest that there were so many little details that I didn't know where to start. I settled for Angelina's trunk, since it was close enough that I didn't have to move my lazy self to examine it. 

It was dark green, and worn. It had probably been in her family for a while. The detailing was brass, and it had someone's initials on it in the upper right-hand corner of the lid. E.J. I wondered who E.J. was, and how long Angelina had owned the trunk.

From there my eyes wandered over the dormitory. I took in the floorboards, which were nice mostly, though the wood had a few knots in it. It wasn't dusty at all, doubtless the work of industrious house elves. The little windows that lined the walls showed the gray light outside, the kind of light when the sun isn't quite rising yet. The gray light is just a promise -- a reassurance that the sun hasn't forgotten that its supposed to come up.

Unfortunately, its also a promise that the day will start and Hogwarts students will have to actually get out of bed.

Perhaps by now you have gathered the impression that I'm not exactly a morning person. How _very_ right you are.

* * *

After Angelina and I had gotten ready, Katie, Angelina and I made our way downstairs side by side. At breakfast I was to busy actually eating to make any particularly stunning observations, other then the fact that Millicent Bullstrode isn't a morning person either, as she got supremely annoyed when I brushed up against her every so slightly. I swear I thought I was going to get a beating from, of all people, _Millicent Bullstrode_, and was perfectly ready to defend myself and justify the consequences, when Fred, George, and Lee arrived to swell our ranks. Thankfully, Bullstrode left. 

Of course, this was due to the accidentally excellent timing of the trio, not of any heroics of George's…

… but somehow, I attributed it to him.

There really _is_ something wrong with me, isn't there? I'm hopeless for one thing.

From breakfast Katie and I went to Care of Magical Creatures. When we were signing up for N.E.W.T. classes, I was short one class and Katie _begged_ me to take Care of Magical Creatures with her, so we'd have another class together and so that she wouldn't be alone. Angelina and I are two of her best friends, and its kind of hard on her that we're a year ahead.

Anyway, I had the schedule space, and good enough marks, so I agreed to it, and one summer later, there I was.

Katie's a pureblood, but in the muggle world, she would definitely be classed as a hippie. She's a diehard environmentalist. Save the Dragons and all of that. Not that I don't support it. I just don't get quite as worked up over it as Miss. Bell. Angelina basically just humors her.

Hagrid was absent from his classes, and a Professor Grubbly-Plank was there instead. She gave us a quick lecture about how crucial N.E.W.T.'s were to our futures, which she'd been doing every day since the start of term a week ago. Thanks for driving that message home professor. Stress? Never even heard of it. Then she set us a quick review to see how much we knew. Turns out that the "wonderful" world of N.E.W.T. classes begins with review, review, review.

Not that I was complaining, not in Care of Magical Creatures anyway. I knew that once Hagrid got back we would be sure to move on to more, er, _interesting_ creatures, and confidentially Hagrid's idea of interesting can translate into deadly.

I should have known they're be a N.E.W.T. class that was an exception to prove the rule. Transfiguration. McGonagall. First she gave us the standard lecture on the importance of N.E.W.T's But then she started us off with something new right away, and it had to be the hardest stuff I'd ever done, even in that class, and that class had _always _been hard.

She informed us that we would start off with transfiguring live things into inanimate objects and "go from there."

Hard as I tried, I couldn't turn my worm into a piece of string, and next to me, Angelina was having no more luck than I was. I'll admit it, it sort of bugged me. I mean, I'd always been pretty good at Transfiguration. I was pretty good at most of my classes, not because of any wild amount of skill (me? Skill? In Potions? Now there's a good joke) but just because I pay attention and actually do the work. But the worm in front of me stubbornly remained a worm, no matter how hard I focused on the incantation, and no matter how many times I waved my wand.

I may have started to panic just a little bit. If this was what the rest of the year was going to be like, just how was I going to pass my Transfiguration N.E.W.T.? Overreaction you say? Well you can thank the teachers. They were the ones who had constantly been pounding the importance of N.E.W.T.'s into our poor, impressionable minds. Besides, everyone has a stress area, right? For Angelina its Quidditch, for Katie it's the environment, maybe for me its my grades.

I looked over at Fred and George, hoping to see that they were miraculously excelling and would be able to help me, but to no avail. They were talking about something (probably Weasley's Wizard Wheezes) and only halfheartedly trying to transfigure the worm that wriggled unhappily on the desk in front of them. Being "Little Miss. Scholar" (okay, Angelina said that, not me, just for the record) I went over to scold them.

For my trouble, I got a worm in the face.

I will give Fred the benefit of the doubt. He was gesturing with his wand and talking to George, and I am sure that he didn't mean for the worm to fly through the air and hit me in the face.

George got enormous credit (as if he needed any more in my book) for speedily removing said worm.

"Oh Merlin Alicia, I'm really sorry!" He said immediately, replacing the worm on his desk and looking at me anxiously.

How could I be angry when George Weasley was looking at me anxiously? He didn't look like a puppy dog, he looked like a…a…Well, he looked like George Weasley, which is more than praise enough in my opinion.

"That's okay." I said, hoping I didn't sound like I wished I had a poster of him to hang on my wall.

Obsessive? Who me? Never.

Fred, George, Lee, Angelina and I all met up in the corridor on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was going to be our fourth class with that Umbridge woman, and we could already predict what was going to happen.

_"Please put away your wands, and take our your books."_

Sure enough, upon arrival, we were ordered to take out our copy of _Defensive Magical Theory. _Let me give you a quick piece of advice. If you are ever out book shopping and you think to yourself, gee I've been kind of bored lately. I want a book that will interest me. A book that will entertain me, and give me something to look forward to. Then, you spot _Defensive Magical Theory_ on the shelf.

Walk away. Immediately. At the speed of a small freight train. Don't go anywhere near that book, because you will be sucked in to a furious black hole of boredom.

I'm serious.

Apparently the Ministry not only didn't want us doing actual magic, it also wanted to bore us to death.

So that Umbridge woman (who bears a striking and highly unflattering resemblance to a toad) told us to read Chapter Four of _Defensive Magical Theory_, and we did. The end. I wondered what she was going to make us do once she ran out of Chapters. We'd probably have to read the index, first forwards and then backwards.

* * *

It wasn't until we got back to the Common Room that night that I remembered my promise to notice the little things. 

I have argued throughout, and will still argue now, that coincidence conspired against me. It did so again by placing George in an armchair across from mine.

Was it my fault that the flickering firelight half illuminated his face, highlighting his lopsided grin? Absolutely not. Was it my fault that my eyes were drawn to his freckles as I counted them one by one? Well, okay…maybe the counting.

Alright, so maybe when I write that down, it looks ridiculous. But believe me when I say that at the time it was _not_ ridiculous at all.

I carefully took in the differences between the left side of his face and his right. The left side of his mouth curved up more than the right side. His eyes were the same on both sides, a startling blue. His hair flopped down over one side of his forehead more than on the other. In the firelight I imagined I could see the differences between each ginger hair. There was a smattering of freckles on the upper part of one ear, clustered together like their own constellation, their own galaxy.

Do I sound like I was hopelessly smitten? See, I don't know where you would get _that_ impression.

I really do sound like I had a freakishly unhealthy obsession with George Weasley don't I? I swear, I did (do) have other interests. Like Quidditch, and school, and Angelina and Katie.

I just, you know, think George is amazingly…amazing.

I sat there, soaking it all in, all these 'little things' that I had never even noticed before.

I wondered, suddenly, what else I hadn't noticed about George.

We had been best friends for ages, but I'd had a crush on him for almost that long, and I couldn't help but wonder if maybe the crush had made our friendship superficial? Maybe I'm not explaining that well -- its hard to explain. But I wondered if I had turned into a giggling Weasley twin fan girl, instead of being a good friend.

Before I went to bed that night I grabbed a piece of spare parchment and wrote two things on it.

_1.) George has 11 freckles on the upper crest of his left ear._

_2.) Note to Self: Am I a real friend to George?_

_

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A/N: Thanks for reading. Constructive crit. is always appreciated. _

_ Thanks to everybody who reviewed the first chapter: lady Arre, mangolady, SkywalkerChild, Jagged Epiphany, bredalot, and Magical Fish. Hope you like this second chapter!  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: There was a direction this story was supposed to take in the first place. It was a direction devoid of Molly. And here it is. The Chapter 3 that was always meant to be posted. I'm back on track for "The Little Things" now. Thanks **everybody** for your patience and your awesome reviews so far. Please read and let me know what you thought. I'm sorry if this is a bit confusing: the total switching of chapters. Just remember..._

_**This is the real Chapter 3. The Chapter 3 with Molly in it no longer exists. It is NOT part of the continuity of this story. ** _

* * *

Chapter Three

Stress: a state of being in which a person (either muggle or wizard) is under extreme pressure. Stress: the greatest enemy of several groups of people, including Muggle firemen, wizards whose task it is to contain and calm dragons, and seventh year Hogwarts students. Stress: hereby defined as the bane of Alicia Spinnet's seventeenth year of existence.

By late October Angelina and I were spending every free moment we had trying to put finishing touches on N.E.W.T.s prep homework, and Katie was trying to sympathize instead of laugh at us. To her credit, she managed to stifle her giggles for the majority of the time. As for Angelina and I, we sent her death glares and told her to "just wait."

My mission to notice the little things had been sidelined by my mission to graduate from Hogwarts, and even my worries about being a good friend to George had faded slightly. But then Harry Potter came along and decided he had to do something noble and community minded. Grrr.

He started a secret organization to teach Hogwarts students defensive magic, since that cow Umbridge wasn't any help in that department. Needless to say, Angelina, Katie and I joined. And of course, Fred, Lee, and _George_ joined as well. Which meant that at least one night a week I was thrown into a small, confined space with George Weasley. Admittedly, I had to see him at Quidditch practices as well. But at Quidditch I could fly away from him at alarming speeds and pretend I was only trying to put myself in a better tactical position. At meetings of the D.A. (Dumbledore's Army -- clever, eh?) the only tactics involved were not getting hit by stray curses.

So on top of all my homework, I spent quite a bit of time fretting over having to see George Weasley so much, because of course every time I saw him I felt guilty about being a superficial friend, which in turn made me wonder if I was only ever his friend because he was enormously good-looking (a fact which no one ever denies).

In fact, you could say that during this particular time period, seeing George Weasley induced, oh, I don't know, _stress_.

It was at breakfast one morning in the Great Hall that it hit me. Actually, a sausage hit me. But I'll try to interpret it figuratively.

"Alicia? Alicia? Alicia!" I turned just in time to see a sausage flying towards my face and a frozen George Weasley sitting next to me with his fork suspiciously devoid of any food.

Has anyone else noticed that things tend to hit me in the face quite a bit when George is around?

After the sausage had been removed from my face (George didn't want it back, but Lee took it happily enough, perhaps because no one had the heart to tell him what had happened to it) and George had contained his laughter long enough to apologize, he got around to telling me what he'd meant to say in the first place.

"Um, Alicia, have you been...I don't know...avoiding me lately?"

And I realized, with a jolt, that I had been.

I'd been avoiding George Weasley.

I'd been avoiding George Weasley, who was supposedly my best guy friend.

I'd been avoiding George Weasley, who was supposedly my best guy friend, because I thought I wasn't a good enough friend to him.

Does this sound a bit ironic to anyone else? Anyone at all?

That's what I thought.

Of course I denied it adamantly.

"No!" I said immediately. George looked at me rather dubiously.

"No," I repeated, "I've just been busy, you know. Schoolwork and Quidditch practice and, you know, other stuff."

By "other stuff" I meant the D.A. of course, but I was remarkably paranoid about being caught out as a member of a secret club. Don't ask me why. Perhaps (just perhaps!) I wanted to avoid detentions with that slimy toad of a woman.

"Oh," he said, "okay."

I breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to my breakfast, but swirls of guilt had consumed my appetite.

I was avoiding George Weasley, and I felt terrible about it.

But even so, I knew that I wouldn't stop side-stepping away in shame whenever I spotted George in the halls until I put the question to rest once and for all.

Was I a good friend to George?

I took a deep breath. I swallowed hard.

Maybe I was blowing things out of proportion. Maybe I was exaggerating the issue. Maybe the stress of to much homework and not enough lying around eating chocolate had fried my brain.

But whatever the reason, it was time to actually confront the problem, instead of skirting around the sides of it.

There are many sensible, brave people out there who would interpret this as meaning that it was time to go talk to George Weasley. To just ask. To simply say, "Am I a good friend to you?"

I did not interpret it this way.

Instead, I had no idea what I was going to do.

But it felt good to have decided to do _something_.

* * *

For the next week I tried to decide. I tried to remember all the times I'd been a good friend. Loaned him my Potions homework (what? there's nothing wrong with a loan), made excuses to Wood when he was late for Quidditch, just plain spent time with him, (and Fred, and Lee, and Angelina, and Katie), helped him plot his next prank... 

But for the life of me I couldn't find the distinguishing line. Where was the boundary between what you did for a friend and what you did for a person you were completely and totally infatuated with? Was there a boundary?

I'll admit, this did compound my stress a bit.

I also did my best to reinstate my quest to notice the "little things", thinking that maybe it would help me decide. Of course, to help me make up my mind, it was necessary for the "little things" I noticed to be all about George. Can I help it if circumstance again required me to stare at George for large parts of History of Magic? Of course not. Anyway, it was time that would have otherwise been spent half-dozing with my head on the desk, so it was, if you think about it, a rather productive usage of time.

And yet, despite all my best efforts, when the next D.A. meeting rolled around, I still hadn't figured it out.

Was I a good friend? Or not?

I trooped along to the meeting along with Angelina and Katie, trepidation boiling in my stomach. What was I going to do? If I kept avoiding George for much longer (especially in small spaces) he was sure to realize that something was up. And I knew that I would die of complete and absolute humiliation of George Weasley ever, **ever** realized that I had an enormous crush on him.

In retrospect, it was probably all that worrying, and wondering, and _stress _that made me so distracted during the meeting. And there is almost no question that it was the distraction which led me to pay little or no attention while Angelina and I practiced firing and deflecting Stunning Spells with each other. And it was undoubtedly a Stunning Spell, perfectly on target, that caused me to give a small start of surprise, and then fall to the ground, missing the pillows by a few inches, and hit the floor with a solid thump.

When I woke up it was to see three faces staring down at me, looking quite concerned, and to hear several more voices shouting in the background about water, and icepacks, and Healing Charms. But my gaze stuck on the faces. Why? You may well ask. The first face was that of Angelina Johnson, who was hurriedly apologizing for the Stunning Spell which had hit me and caused me to fall. The second face was that of Katie Bell, who was pointing out that I probably should have been able to deflect the spell anyway (thanks Katie!) and who was wondering why I hadn't, all the while biting her lip. And the third face was that of George Weasley, who was looking down at me with no small amount of worry in his light blue eyes, one strand of his ginger hair hanging down over his forehead.

He looked adorable, just in case someone didn't get the message.

I was struck with a strong sense of deja vu, as though something like this had happened before. Come to think of it, something like this _had_ happened before. Are you ready? Let's all say it together. 3, 2, 1...Flashback!

* * *

For many people, being hit by a Stunning Spell and awakening on the floor to find three of your best friends standing over you probably wouldn't be flashback material. It wouldn't cause them to remember any other certain incident. Instead, it would probably cause them to groan, rub their heads, and conclude that they wouldn't require a trip to the hospital wing. This was not the case with me. No, for me, being hit with a Stunning Spell and awakening on the floor to find three of my best friends standing over me made me recall a particularly infamous night in my Hogwarts career. 

It was in first year actually, pretty soon after I had just met Angie, Lee, and the twins, and lo and behold, Lee and the twins had already managed to convince Angelina and I to go along with them on one of their late night escapades to the kitchens. It sounded fun -- and easy. Nip down to the kitchens, tickle the pear, ask politely for some food, and leave again, whilst stuffing our faces. And on the way _to_ the kitchens, this theory held true perfectly. The five of us emerged from the kitchens, already shoveling food into our mouths, when we heard footsteps coming around the corner.

Terrified that it was Filch, I spun around looking for a place to hide, but there was nowhere to go. I was panicking when George put a hand on my arm.

"It's not Filch," he said, but his tone wasn't reassuring, "it's Montague."

Montague. He was a Slytherin, and a nasty one too. He already knew plenty of curses and jinxes, thanks to his dear old dad's expertise, and he had been half-bragging, half-threatening about his plan to use them on any wayward Gryffindors that crossed his path. Somehow, Fred, George, and Lee had managed to gloss over this information when encouraging us to accompany them on their little midnight jaunt.

"Oh, what's this?" The hulking Slytherin inquired as he spotted us, a menacing grin playing across his features. "Ickle Gryffindors?"

Nobody bothered to point out that he wasn't really older than us -- although he looked it. Fred, George, and Lee were fumbling for their wands, and Angelina and I were sizing up the chances of a peaceful escape. They were slim to say the least. Montague took a step closer, and the boys did as well.

"Why don't you just crawl back into whatever hole you came from Montague?" Fred asked, his teeth gritted. Enemies at first glance. You heard it here first.

"If you want to hurt the girls you'll have to go through us first." George added. Ah, first-year chivalry. Coming from anyone else, it would have been cheesy. Coming from George Weasley, it was just brave.

Montague pulled out his wand. I was hating him more and more by the second. He yelled the incantation for a Stunning Spell and a jet of light rushed out of his wand.

And that was when I decided to play the hero.

I leapt forward to place myself in front of George (whom the curse was directed at) and the spell hit me instead.

It would have made great material for a Grade-B T.V. action movie. Instead, it was great material for a whopping headache.

When I woke up, Angelina Johnson's face swam over me. And so did George Weasley's.

I heard later that Montague left the encounter with a few more tentacles then he normally had, as well as a few more bruises. But, wonderful as that information is, that wasn't what I got out of this particular remembrance.

No, it was that mere weeks after I'd met George Weasley, and over a year _before_ I had a crush on him, I was leaping in front of him and taking Stunning Spells in his place.

I wasn't just a good friend. I was a great friend. I probably deserved a medal.

The D.A. room was coming more into focus, and I winced only slightly as my head was lifted and an icepack slid against the large lump that I could feel was rapidly forming on the back of my head.

"Alicia, are you alright?" Three voice asked almost simultaneously. I considered this question. I tenderly felt the lump on the back of my head, and took note of the pain in my back. I took into consideration the fact that my vision was still slightly fuzzy. I carefully checked to ensure that I could still remember my name, age, and Quidditch position.

Then I added into my calculations the fact that I was, after all, an excellent friend to George Weasley, sweetheart, prankster, hottie (and _friend_) extraordinaire, and I managed a slight grin.

"Yeah," I said, sitting up further, "I'm fine."

That night through my absolute euphoria, I found time to grab a spare piece of parchment and a quill, and write down a few notes.

_Note to Self: _

_1.) I am a seriously excellent friend to George Weasley. _

_2.) George is (if at all possible) even cuter when he's worried. _

* * *

_A/N: There it is. This was the original direction the story was supposed to follow, and I have to say that it's a direction I like more. That's right. Forget Molly. She was never supposed to be in "The Little Things" in the first place. I like the story better without her. But feel free to weigh in on where you stand! Let me know what you thought of this chapter. _  



	4. Chapter 4

**_STOP_**

_Don't go any further until you have done one all-important thing -- read the NEW Chapter 3, uploaded on July 23 (yesterday). If you've already done that, then feel free to continue. If you haven't then please, please, **please** do. You won't understand this chapter if you don't. We're not just talking about a few minor revisions. Chapter 3 got a complete overhaul and a whole new plot direction, which was the direction it was supposed to have in the first place -- oh never mind. Just, please, read the new Chapter 3. It no longer contains Molly. This is just one of many, many changes. I repeat: whole new plot direction. _

_Phew. Alright. Sorry to keep you up there. If you've read the new Chapter 3, go for it. Please let me know what you think! _

* * *

Chapter Four

Reassured about the quality of my friendship with George, I could do two things:

a.) Resume shamelessly crushing on and drooling about my best guy friend, George Weasley

and

b.) Resume my quest to notice the little things.

I did both without any further ado.

Even though my schedule was hugely busy, I did my best to find time to notice the little things about everything. And here again, a vicious string of coincidences led to an inevitable end. Just remember, I am blameless in any and all situations described in this story. Seriously.

Has anyone ever told you that History of Magic is boring? Not just boring, but mind-blowingly boring? So boring in fact, that it has been known to send students into comas from which they don't awaken until the Chuddley Cannons win the Quidditch World Cup, a once in at least three lifetimes event as calculated by the Wizardly Statistics Bureau?

I thought not.

To make matters worse, on the particular early November Tuesday I'm about to tell you about, it was a dreary, cloudy day outside, and the sky was covered in dull, gray clouds.

Definitely nothing to write home about.

I was fantastically bored in class that morning. I'm a good student normally. The observant among you will note "gee, she's told us that before." Yep, I have. Just thought I'd reiterate it so that I wouldn't look _quite _so bad in the series of events I'm about to explain.

I scanned the classroom, searching for little things to notice. I was determined that if I wasn't going to actually _learn_ anything during History of Magic, I was at least going to get something done. And somehow, through a chain of mystic events, whose roots are still unbeknownst to me, my eyes fell on George.

And once again, I felt myself drinking in all the little things about him. His head was leaning to one side, and his eyes were half-closed. He really was quite intelligent -- if he would just _apply_ himself. I broke off this train of thought when I started to sound like Professor McGonagall, because as much as I admired her, I didn't want to become her. I could almost laugh out loud at how pathetic I was. I was positive that even half-asleep, George Weasley was the hottest boy in all of Hogwarts. Also, the sweetest, and the funniest, and the winner of the Hogwarts Chocolate Frog eating competition (this was actually true -- twelve frogs in 39 seconds).

There are a lot of adjectives that could describe me at this point. Obsessive. Pathetic. Stalker-ish. Stalker-ish is actually not a word, but we'll let it pass.

All these adjectives sprang to my mind and I was suddenly horrified with myself.

Looking back on all this, maybe I was being silly. After all, I wasn't just obsessed with George's looks. I was also obsessed with his humor, his charm, and his occasional burst of tactful kindness, which he would always later pretend had happened by accident. And when it's all written down that way, he seems like the perfect all-around guy. In fact it seems completely silly to be questioning any kind of obsession over him. But it didn't feel silly at the time. Perhaps it was the extra amount of time I had on my hands, due to Professor Binns droning on and on and on. But I began to do some serious self-examination.

Self-examination can be an excellent thing. It can make you spot flaws in yourself and want to fix them. It can make you realize you're about to make a mistake, and cause you to stop. Or it can make you shake your head in pity and click your tongue and say to yourself, "Pull it together Spinnet!"

My quest to notice the little things had begun with George. And that was all good and fine. But I hadn't meant for it to remain completely focused on him. What had I noticed besides stuff about George, for the past month and a half? Nothing.

To make it simple: I'd been noticing the little things -- and they'd all been about George. And I'd been best friends (**friends**) with George for over seven years. It was time to face the facts. Katie had gotten Lee, Angelina had gotten Fred. If I was going to "get" George, it would have already happened.

George and I weren't "meant to be."

I'd been wasting my time crushing on George Weasley since second year, hardly even looking at any other guys, and all for nothing, because George Weasley and I would never be together. In fact, within seven months or so, we'd both graduate from Hogwarts and go on to pursue completely separate lives.

By this time I'd gotten so completely flustered that I'm sure I looked ridiculous. I was chewing on my lip and digging my fingernails into my palms. George went to the effort of opening his left eye fully to give me an odd, and slightly concerned look and I quickly turned away and began to furiously pretend that I hadn't been staring at him, completely lost in thought, for the past five minutes.

In my darkest hour (which this clearly was, at least at the time), I could have done one of three things. I could have kept everything to myself, a viable option considering I was (am) awfully shy. I could have written home, definitely _not_ an appealing option, since mum can't keep a secret and dad wanted me to swear a vow of celibacy and become a nun the minute I graduated. Or I could call an emergency meeting with Angelina and Katie and spill everything regarding George and my hopelessly romantic notions concerning him that I hadn't been telling them for the past seven years.

I chose the third option.

* * *

In a fit of desperation, I grabbed Angelina and Katie the minute Quidditch practice was over and sat them down on a locker room bench. I peered furtively around to make sure no one was listening and then took a deep breath and told them everything. I'm told it came out something like this: 

"Well I've had a crush on George since second year and then I was worried I wasn't a good friend and now I know I am but that's all I'm ever going to be to George because he doesn't like me and so now I have to do something because I can't just keep staring at George like some kind of lovesick toad when there are so many other guys in Hogwarts!"

Except I talked quite a bit faster.

It is probably a mark of how good of friends I am with Angelina and Katie that they understood every word I said and still didn't call the men in the little white coats to come and take me away. Instead, they stared at me for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I liked George sooner," I said desperately, "I just --"

"Oh that," Angelina said, waving a flippant hand, "we knew that."

"You did?" I asked, blushing furiously.

"Sure. And you two are so perfect for each other." Katie said, sighing slightly. I shook my head, trying to recover from the shock of the fact that my two best friends knew the one secret I'd so carefully guarded from them. Then I registered what Katie had said and began gesticulating wildly again as I spoke.

"Weren't you listening? George and I are _not_ perfect for each other because if we were we'd be together by now, like you and Lee, or you," I pointed at Angelina, "and Fred. But we're _not _together yet. And we're never going to be, because George just thinks of me as a friend."

"Alicia, just because you're not together yet --" Katie began, but Angelina gave her a nudge in the ribs. Katie glared at Angelina, but Angelina studiously ignored her.

"It sounds," Angie said, raising one eyebrow at me, "like you think you need to date around a bit."

"What?" Katie said, rather horrified. Angelina muttered something to Katie under her breath. Katie huffed and folded her arms, but kept her silence as Angelina went on.

"If that's what it takes to make you feel better, go ahead." Angelina advised, shrugging. "Take a look at some other blokes. It's not like none of them will be interested in you Alicia -- you just haven't been paying any attention to them."

"I know that!" I said. "That's the problem, I--"

"Well then just pay attention." Angelina suggested slowly, as though speaking to a rather dense toddler. "That's the easy fix. If you're afraid you haven't been paying enough attention to all the other boys at Hogwarts, then start."

I stared at her. When it was laid out in front of me like that by Angelina, blunt though it was, it was also obvious.

"Oh." I said. "Right."

Maybe I'd been hoping to hear that of course George and I were meant to be, that our fates were written in the stars, that we were obviously soulmates. But of course, I chastised myself, that was stupid. We weren't "meant to be," no matter how much I wanted things that way. It was time for me to take control of things and stop paying so much attention to George Weasley.

As I strode off the Quidditch pitch and back toward the castle with new purpose, trying to ignore the little voice in my head that was saying, "You've liked George Weasley for years and years!" I was going to notice the little things about other guys, guys who would look at me as more than a friend. I was so intent on ignoring the little George-advocate voice in my head that I hardly even noticed as Katie and Angelina fell behind me slightly, murmuring amongst themselves.

That night in the common room I grabbed a spare piece of parchment and wrote, in large, spiky letters:

_STOP NOTICING ALL THE "LITTLE THINGS" ABOUT GEORGE!_

_

* * *

A/N: Poor Alicia. Two emotional crises in two chapters: that has to be hard on a person. Hehe. Anyway, please let me know what you thought. Thanks for reading! "The Little Things" is now officially back on track. I hope to have it completed before the school year resumes. I am extremely sorry about the long wait between updates -- there was some serious re-plotting going on. Thanks again for your patience!  
_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Okay, it took a while. But not as long as before. Plus: one chapter and an epilogue left! I'm honestly excited about this story again, and that is so cool for me. :) Please read and let me know what you think! _

* * *

Chapter Five

Honestly, sometimes, it's like all my good luck was sucked into some huge cosmic blender. Like someone decided I didn't need it, mixed it up, parceled out my good luck to someone else, and made me a bad luck smoothie.

Excuse me for carrying the metaphor to far, but really I occasionally think its true. And I especially thought that by mid-November Seventh Year, because I had kept my promise. I had noticed the little things about other guys. I had noticed them, and they had not done me any good whatsoever.

I had noticed that Warrington was maddeningly dense and cruel (unlike George, who was quite clever when he chose to be, and who would certainly never be intentionally cruel). I had noticed that Ernie MacMillan was unbearably pompous and rather conceited (and George was certainly not particularly full of himself, despite all appearances). I had noticed that Cormac McLaggen was a bit of a brute and had no idea how to treat a lady, (whereas George was a prankster, a joker, and seemed to have a grip on chivalry). In other words I had noticed plenty of little things about other guys. I had "paid attention," as Angie had told me to. And what had happened? Nothing except that I was even more hopelessly infatuated with George, that was all.

I bashfully reported this to Katie and Angie, and Angie had grinned and nudged Katie.

"Didn't I tell you so?" She'd asked gleefully. I quirked an eyebrow and she quickly rearranged her face into a more serious expression.

"Well then," Katie asked, unable to look any less than overjoyed, "what are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it? Nothing! George and I are really, really, good friends. How could he think of me as anything else? It doesn't make sense. We're just, you know, friends. And if I think he's really, really sweet, and funny, and fun to be around, and wildly good-looking, well maybe that's my problem."

There was a long moment of silence during which Angelina gave me a dubious look and Katie sighed, shaking her head. I blushed outrageously and sighed as well.

"Honestly Alicia I sort of wonder about you sometimes." Katie said, shaking her head in a mock-serious tone. I shot her a glare and the conversation devolved into a free-for-all pillow fight.

But still. I clearly had a bit of a problem.

* * *

As it turns out, even when teenage girls are re-realizing their enormous crushes on their best friends, life goes on. Classes continued, and they continued to be _tough._ The twins kept up their product-testing, we all did our best to keep up with our enormous mounds of homework. 

That is, until George gave me yet another crisis to deal with in Charms class.

It was a Monday morning (because don't these sorts of things always happen on Mondays?) and George and I were sharing a table in Charms, as Angelina had decided to take George's usual seat next to Fred. That day in class we were working on unanimating (de-animating? reverse-animating?) little rubber hamburgers. Merlin only knows why Flitwick chose Muggle dog toys as the model for a lesson, but choose them he did, and soon enough George and I had one squeaking across the table we were sharing. George absent-mindedly flicked his wand at it. Instead of freezing, or perhaps flopping over, the little rubber hamburger began to levitate. George didn't even seem to notice.

"Er, George?" I asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Hm?" He asked, sounding a little startled.

"Knut for your thoughts." I said.

He shrugged, then said quite seriously, "The joke shop I guess. There's still so much to work out."

Fred and George had told Katie, Angelina, Lee and me about their plans for the joke shop a few years ago, when they'd first got their financing. They hadn't been able to tell us who from -- not until a year later -- but the point was that they had it (and they promised they'd gotten it legally). They were really going to be able to pursue their dream.

"That's okay." I said in what I hoped was a reassuring time. "You two have plenty of time."

"That's it." He said, frowning into space. "I'm not sure we do."

I frowned back at him. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." He turned to me, looking like he had just woken up a bit. "What are you going to do? After school I mean." He flicked his wand idly and a hamburger toy flew through the air and landed on the professor's head, where it went unnoticed by Flitwick. And George.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I haven't thought about it to much."

I had, a little. But it had always seemed so far away. My O.W.L.'s scores were good, but generic. They could apply to any number of careers. I would be, if nothing else, well-rounded.

"I mean," I elaborated, "I guess there are a whole bunch of things I sort of want to do, but nothing I _really_ want to do. You know?" I made an absent-minded gesture with my wand and the plastic hamburger began to do flips on Flitwick's head, giving out shrill little squeaks every time it landed.

I blushed, just a little. He nodded. "You could be qualified for almost anything. You've got the grades. More importantly," he added, "you've got the smarts."

I turned slightly pink.

"Thanks," I said, a little awkwardly, "well so do you."

"Yeah, but Fred and I have known what we wanted to do for ages. We want to do the joke shop. For us, that's something great. I mean, maybe it doesn't seem that way to everybody --"

"It seems that way to me." I blushed again. "To us. You know, Angelina and Katie and Lee and me. We think it's something great. There are a lot of people out there who could stand to laugh a little more."

He gave a half snort and nodded.

"But," he said, his face becoming a bit more serious, "the point is you deserve something great too. I mean, Fred and me, we're getting what we want. We're getting something great. You deserve that."

I smiled. It may sound cheesy, but I really was touched. Neither Fred nor George got serious unless they really thought the situation warranted it. It sort of sounds silly when I say it now, but it was nice to know that I was worth getting serious about, in George's eyes.

"Thanks." I said. He nodded, the tips of his ears slightly pink, and we left it at that.

But that night in the Common Room I started thinking. I was graduating Hogwarts in less than seven months, and I really didn't know what I wanted to do. I had considered all kinds of careers and tossed them aside in turn -- none of them really clicked with me. I mean, maybe it was an old-fashioned ideal, to expect to actually be able to pursue a career I enjoyed, to do something I liked every day, but that was what I wanted. Sure, I was willing to take a day job at Starbucks or something until I could really get into the job I wanted, but to do that, I had to know what I wanted. And I had absolutely no idea.

I mean, I was seventeen. Surely I should have some kind of grip on what I wanted to do? I should be focusing on some sort of career pathway by now. Improving my credentials. Developing a resume.

Oh Merlin. Well that was it. I had a hopeless crush on George that would never be reciprocated, and I had no idea what direction I wanted to take my career.

I was going to buy twenty cats and wind up working in some Muggle fast food place for the rest of my life. I just knew it.

* * *

_A/N: Please let me know what you thought, okay? _ _Look for the next (and next to last) chapter in the next few weeks. _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This is the last, or perhaps second to last, chapter, and then at the end there will be an epilogue. I don't know what to say about the awful lateness of this chapter, but I really, really hope that I've kept some old followers, because I want to end this story in a satisfactory way. Please, as always, let me know what you think of the story. :_

* * *

Alright, let's be honest. By this point in the year, I was a nervous wreck. It was almost Christmas. That Umbridge woman was awful -- every class seemed worse, especially since I was a fast reader. Every time I finished the chapter Umbridge assigned before class was over my mind had time to wonder. And, of course, time to worry. So I sat in Defense Against the Dark Arts working myself into worry-fests. 

It was during one of these classes that I decided to make a better (or at least a less stressful) use of my time. So I grabbed a spare piece of parchment and scribbled down a note.

Now let's get something straight: I am not usually a note passer. I admit to being a good-two-shoes. But here I was, having just read another chapter that I would forget five minutes later. And lately, I'd started to realize that Umbridge herself could be called a goody-two-shoes. If there was one person I never wanted to be compared to, it was her.

So instead of sitting and wondering how long I would last in the real world before I got my first five cats, I wrote a note to Angelina.

_Hey Ange. Bored yet? _

The note back was almost immediate.

**Terminally. **

_Well thanks for the unbounded entertainment. Such a fount of words from you Angie, will doubtless last me the rest of the class. I cannot thank you enough for your timely and bountiful distraction. _

**Shut up. **

_Are you ever going to write more than two seconds worth of reading? _

**Is it my fault you read so quickly? **

_Yes. _

**Um, the correct answer was actually no. Alright then, let's give you something to think about. When are you going to tell him? **

_Tell who? _

**You're already blushing. **

_Tell WHO?_

**Stop playing dumb. **

_I'm going to go on strike. _

**No you're not. You're too bored. **

_Alright, tell him what? Assuming of course, that "him" is George, considering you still haven't told me.  
_

**That you've fancied him since Merlin-knows-when and you're not about to stop. That's what.  
**

_Um, never? _

I shouldn't have written that particular line with a question mark. Angie pounced on it with frightening speed.

**Stop being so bloody indecisive and do something. You can't just keep quiet forever. **

_Actually that happens to be the plan. _

**If that's the plan then I'll just take things into my own hands. **

Oh God. I skipped straight past the "you wouldn't!" because I had to wonder if she _would_. Instead I went straight to the threats.

_Don't. Don't, or I will absolutely tell Fred that you've fancied him since-- _

**Don't waste your ink threatening me with that -- Fred knows. **

_He KNOWS? He knows, and you didn't tell me? Did you tell Katie? Does Katie know? Who else knows? _

**Are you still breathing? **

_Don't answer a question with a question! I'm not going to be breathing for much longer if you don't tell me. I'm going to have a heartattack. I'll die at a tragically young age, without ever knowing --  
_

**Would do I have to do to be able to write, steal the paper? I just told him before class. Anyway, it's not such a big deal. I mean, it was sort of understood. Sort of. **

_And? _

**Eh. **

_Are you embarrassed? You are aren't you. Is he taking you to Hogsmeade? _

**Yeah. **

_Ange! Katie's going to go nuts, I can't even imagine it. _

**I think you've kindly just given me a preview actually. **

_So you just told him?_

**Mm-hmm. Which brings me back to the ORIGINAL topic, which is you telling George. **

_But Ange who wants to get into a relationship with their best friend? _

**Well, I seem to be in the fast track towards it, actually. **

_It's different for you two. _

**I don't see the difference. Look, obviously I suppose you see things differently than I do. **

_Um, yes. Like you see bruises as battle scars, I see them as painful. _

**They are painful. They're painful battle scars. **

_Again, that would be the difference. _

**I'm telling you Alicia, you've got to do something. We're graduating this year. Do you realize that? Who knows where he'll go after Hogwarts if you don't tell him? What if he decides to open a joke shop in Guatemala? Or Thailand? **

_Don't you think that's a tad farfetched? Anyway, I'm not going to stop him from opening his Guatemalan joke shop if that's what he wants to do. _

**But he'd take you with him, if he knew. **

_First of all: you don't know that. Second: what makes you think I want to go to Guatemala? _

**Because you'd be with George. **

Maybe that was meant to be a joke, or maybe Angie knew more about how I think than I thought she did (say that five times fast). But either way, I put my quill down. This was becoming a dangerous conversation, because to tell the truth, I was starting to think Angie was right. If George wanted to open a joke shop in Guatemala, I'd go with him. If he asked of course. Which he wouldn't. But if he did

* * *

"Alicia, come on, we're going to be late!" It was Katie's voice screaming up the stairs. There is one thing that a lot of people don't know about Katie -- that girl can _project_. Those lungs fill up, she opens her mouth, and she suddenly becomes absolutely impossible to ignore. I was sitting on my four-poster, trying to notice the little things about the handle of my broom instead of wondering what the national anthem of Guatemala sounded like when her voice carried up the stairs. Time for Quidditch practice, apparently. 

"Alright, coming!"

To tell the truth, Quidditch wasn't the same since the twins had been suspended. People tended to drag a bit more: less enthusiasm, more complaining. It wasn't exactly an earth shattering difference, but I had noticed it, and so had Angelina.

And that was why I was so thrilled to see the twins down on the pitch. That of course and the fact with George at practice I might not notice the absolutely miserable amount of rain.

"What are you two doing here?" Angelina asked the minute we had arrived. "You're going to get in trouble again. Worse yet, you'll get us all in trouble. This team is in _more _than enough trouble without you being down here."

"Well, we started thinking," Fred said, grinning, "and we decided that Umbridge didn't ban us from practicing, she just banned us from playing."

"No. Fred you can't be down here. I swear, if this team gets stopped from playing, it's going to be your fault. You have to leave."

The next words out of my mouth cannot possibly have been spoken by me. I must have been possessed. Or possibly temporarily insane.

"Oh, let them stay Ange. What harm can it do? You know it hasn't been as much fun without them."

Angelina turned to me and raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged. "Well alright."

I turned to find George staring at me looking slightly puzzled, and very thoughtful. I blushed and wondered immediately what I'd done. Given the game away?

"Since when have you been such a rebel Alicia?" Fred asked, but Angelina glared at him, and then jerked her head in George's direction. Fred took a quick look at his twin, grinned rather smugly, and promptly kicked into the air.

"Alicia, what --" George began, but at that very moment (and here I was, thinking this only happened in the movies) Katie came swooping down the hill toward the Quidditch Pitch.

"George," She shouted, and then glancing upward, "and Fred! You guys are here!"

George gave me a little grin that seemed to apologize for the interruption and turned to Katie. "But of course!"

Even as Katie greeted the two of us, she glanced from me to George, and then guiltily up at Angelina. I could have sworn that before she walked away I heard her mutter a quiet "oops" under her breath.

"Well, we should get up there shouldn't we?" George asked me, one corner of his mouth quirked upward.

"Yeah." I said, trying to sound energetic and not at all smitten. "Angelina'll go ballistic if I'm late. You not so much any more I guess."

"In fact she'd rather we weren't here." He pointed out.

"Oh please," I said, gesturing toward the sky, where Angie and Fred where talking quietly, "I'd say she's definitely glad about at least _one_ of you."

He chuckled. "What, and not me? I'm wounded. Really, if it hadn't been for your intervention, we wouldn't be here at all."

He was glancing at me sideways, his eyes sharp. Suddenly the conversation had gone from innocent and bantering to absolutely full of potential traps, at least from my point of view. Poor George probably thought he was just making conversation. I was positive I was blushing.

"Well, you know, it's really not as much fun without you two." I said, stammering slightly. "I mean, you always make things more worthwhile --"

At this point I wasn't sure if I was talking about the twins or simply George. From the look in his eyes, he wasn't sure either. I blushed a deeper shade and swung a leg over my broom.

"Alicia --" He began, but I pointed hastily towards the air above the pitch.

"I'm really going to be late." I said, and kicked off from the ground, soaring up to join the rest of my friends.

"Hey Alicia." Angie said in greeting. "We're just about ready to start."

From a glance at my watch I could see that we really should have started five minutes ago. "Sorry. I was just --"

"Just what?" Fred asked, grinning. He looked distinctly as if he knew something I didn't.

"Shut up Fred." Katie said, swooping in behind him. "You're not even supposed to be here."

"Ouch." Fred said.

"That stings Katie." George's voice agreed from behind me. I almost fell off my broom. If I couldn't even hear the voice of one of my best friend's without panicking, things really were dire. But then I'd already known that. I closed my eyes for a moment and opened them again to the sight of Fred giving his twin the same knowing grin he'd given me. I didn't like it at all.

Apparently George didn't either, because I could have sworn he blushed.

"So, George --" Fred began, but George interrupted after a quick glance in my direction.

"Sod off." He said sharply and tugged his twin in the opposite direction.

"Merlin." Angelina said. "That's getting bad."

"What, the twins?" I asked. "They're always bad."

Katie and Angelina exchanged glances and then looked towards Fred and George, who were talking. George really did look like he was blushing, but maybe I was to far away to see him properly.

"Did he ask you _out_ or something? What's got him so rattled?" Katie asked, sounding eager.

"No!" I said immediately, so loudly that a few other players turned to look at us. I lowered it. "No he did _not_ ask me out. I don't know what you're talking about."

For a minute I thought about my conversation with George. He'd been cut off twice. What if he _had_ been going to --?

"Alright," Angelina said, looking disappointed, "let's get this thing started people."

A few minutes later we were doing drills, while Fred and George split their time between actually practicing and goofing off. Soon enough, after Angelina had delivered the ultimatum, "Practice or don't, but stop distracting the rest of us!" they had abandoned practicing at all. Instead they were playing chicken, diving so close to the muddy ground that they almost crashed into it before skimming back into the air.

"Prats." Angelina mutters. She had been managing to avoid looking at Fred every two seconds, a feat I was having trouble matching when it came to George. What had he wanted to _say_?

"Let's focus people!" Angelina said with a shrill blast of her whistle. I sternly jerked my attention back to practice. The matter at hand was Quidditch, not George Weasley, whether I liked it or not.

Difficult as it was to stop my speculation, I managed it. I set myself a task -- notice the little things about Quidditch. The Quaffle, the pitch, the weather conditions for Merlin's sake, anything to avoid staring at George the entire time. It was when I was taking in the interesting and rather menacing way the cloud's where gathering above the castle (and threatening to come toward the pitch), that It Happened.

Trust me when I say that It deserves capitalization.

I was sitting on my broom, taking a two minute break as decreed by Angelina. The clouds were, to tell you the truth, not particularly fascinating, but they were better than staring at George. I was, I suppose, sort of drifting along, not paying a lot of attention to where I was going. As I turned to head back toward Ange and Katie, I heard a shout.

"Bloody hell! George quick --"

I had flown right under the twins, who were still making mock dives at the ground and at each other.

I turned, panicked, to see Fred banking sharply away from me, his knuckles white on the broom handle. I swallowed hard. My heart was thumping. Thank Merlin for Fred's reflexes, or --

I felt a heavy thud as something crashed into my left side. There was a string of startled and angry curses in a tone that was unmistakably George Weasley's, and I found myself clinging to the handle of his broom as he tried desperately to level out. My own broom was falling to the ground, and my legs were dangling into the air.

I held on for dear life, an expression I never thought I would have to take so literally. There was lump in my throat formed from panic and pain, and I couldn't seem to scream.

"Hang on Alicia." George said, sounding incredibly strained and almost as panicked as I was. His broom was dipping and swaying from my added and unexpected weight, and all I could think of was how absolutely ridiculous it was that I was going to _die_ hanging from George Weasley's broomstick, and I was in _love_ with George Weasley, and this was a completely stupid and completely avoidable situation.

* * *

I did not, of course, die. In fact, George got his broom under control remarkably quickly considering the circumstances. Angelina an Katie were both flying next to us before I knew it, with Fred close on their heels. 

"Alicia," Angelina said, sounding terrified, "just switch to my broom."

I did so, slowly, my arms shaking.

"You holding on?" Angelina asked over her shoulder, her eyes full of concern.

I considered the retort, "What do you _think_?" but found myself suddenly to tired for sarcasm. "Yeah." I said, and Angelina descended.

The instant we touched ground I stumbled off, my legs trembling and feeling weak. An immediate crowd formed around me, Katie and Angelina closest.

"Merlin are you alright Alicia?" Katie asked.

"I'm fine." I said, slightly shakily. "I'm fine. It's silly to be so worried isn't it? It wasn't a big deal. Just an accident. I would've been fine if I'd fallen."

"Don't be stupid, it was scary!" Katie insisted and Angelina nodded.

"Yeah it was." Fred agreed from behind me. "I'm sorry Alicia, we didn't think --"

"Bloody hell Alicia I'm sorry." George interrupted, his blue eyes scared and apologetic.

He had been forgiven before he'd even said anything, and even though a little voice in the back of my head said it was a stupid idea I turned and threw my arms around him.

When I pulled back, quite suddenly aware of our proximity and of the fact that we were surrounded by the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team. I could feel my face burning and wondered if I was as red as George's hair yet.

"Er, sorry, I--" I began, but stopped when I saw his expression.

"Er," he said, sounding as embarrassed as I had ever heard him, "if you're all that sorry I won't kiss you."

Upon further consideration I decided that perhaps I was not as sorry as I had thought.

"I'm not all _that_ sorry." I managed, even as close as his face was to mine.

"Right." He said, and I received my first kiss from George Weasley.

I am sorry to admit that I did not notice the little things about the kiss. I was a bit to absorbed with the big picture, the big picture being that George Weasley was kissing me, and I was kissing him back, and best of all, neither of us seemed unhappy about it.

It's that sort of thing that can really make a girl's day.

When we broke apart it was to face the music of having kissed each other in front of a group of mutual, and loudly supportive, friends.

"Well finally." Katie said to me, her smile so big I thought it might outgrow her face altogether.

Angelina turned out not to be above, "I told you so." I didn't hold it against her (much) because, after all, she had.

Fred slapped George's back and grinned, saying something about how it had taken the two of us long enough, which George countered with the fact that Fred and Angelina had been in the works for years.

And I stood, busy absorbing the thousands of little implications of the fact that, apparently, George Weasley, if that kiss was anything to go by, felt rather more strongly about me than anyone feels about a friend. Even a best friend.

* * *

_A/N: Why no, that isn't all there is to the story. There's an epilogue. And no, as I said at the beginning of the chapter, I don't have any good excuses for the phenomenal lateness of this chapter, besides life. Which, it occurs to me, isn't a bad excuse. But even so, this should have been here much sooner. So I'm very sorry. As always, please let me know what you think of the chapter!_


	7. Chapter 7

Epilogue

As any Hogwarts student from first years on up can tell you, Fred and George Weasley made a daring escape before they could manage to finish their seventh year. As most Hogwarts students, first years or otherwise, could not tell you, I was absolutely furious for all of a week.

The truth was that most of us could see they weren't going to last at Hogwarts. Not with that Umbridge woman in charge. Frankly if they'd let me go with them, I might have seriously considered the offer. In fact, when George told me what they were planning, I did ask to go. It's not one of my prouder moments I suppose -- Merlin knows I'll never tell my parents -- but at the time I wasn't sure how I could really survive Umbridge's reign with two of my best friends gone.

Long story short, he wouldn't let me come. He kept going on about how I had a future, and they could start a joke shop without a graduation certificate but there were so many things I could do, and I had to keep my options open, and I just had to stick it out, and, and, and --. So when I was finished letting the total sentimentality (and let's face it, complete sweetness) of that get to me, I had to admit that he was right.

Then I forced him to promise frequent visits, and lots of letters. And chocolate. Because if you're going to leave behind your best friend/girlfriend in the middle of what is fast becoming a catastrophe with a school's name slapped on the front, you owe her a lot of chocolate.

Anyway, once my week of fury was over, and I was done ranting to Angelina, and Angelina was done ranting to me (_bloody Weasley twins, where in hell do they get off leaving us in the middle of this mess, for Merlin's sake, absolutely no sense of--_), and Katie was done listening and nodding sympathetically, I had to admit that I admired them for it. Of course, I wasn't sure if I could avoid admiring George at this point, but when the weekly letters came -- complete with chocolate from Honeydukes and arrangements for visits in Hogsmeade, and the suggestion that I spend the summer holidays with the Weasleys since hey, I wasn't seeing much of them in school any more was I? -- well, could I stay mad?

I suppose it's about time I wrapped this story up, really. The importance of noticing the little things has been, I hope, driven home. The utter misery and ecstasy of being me is rather obvious. The complete supremacy of George Weasley as a best friend and boyfriend are quite evident.

So there are only a few things left to say.

The first is that this was the third letter I received from George Weasley after his quick and messy departure from the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry:

_Alicia -- _

_I've decided to just buy you a gift certificate to Honeydukes, as it saves the problem of chocolate melting in the mail once the weather warms up. And, obviously, it gives you a much-needed excuse to come to Hogsmeade and see me._

_Out of what I assure you was purely idle curiosity, Fred and I have done a few quiet investigations into the market for a joke shop in Guatemala, and we've decided the prospects aren't as good as we'd like._

_Please remember that the above remark is completely and utterly innocent, and that I have absolutely no prior knowledge of any revelations you may or may not have had._

_Love,  
The Good Twin  
_

Angelina admitted pretty quickly that she'd told him, and Katie instantly backed my plan to replace all of her Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans with the Booger and Ear Wax flavors. I am pleased to report that while it took some work it was utterly worth it.

The second thing is that I did finally decide on a career, for those of you who were wondering (I know, I know -- the suspense, it's been driving you mad!). It was an incredibly rainy spring afternoon and I was procrastinating, something I do remarkably well. I was, in fact, considering becoming a professional procrastinator when the idea hit me.

I wanted a career noticing the little things. After all, that method had brought me nothing but good luck so far, in the end anyway.

So when we had our final career conferences before graduation I told Professor McGonagall I'd decided on being an author. She looked quite approving, but maybe she was only thinking about how disapproving Umbridge would look. I have to admit that made me quite happy too.

My life was far from perfect when I graduated from Hogwarts in my 7th year. It was a cloudy Thursday morning actually, and I almost tripped walking up the stairs to receive my certificate. And of course there was the "the Dark Lord has returned, your lives are in danger, and by the way if I were you I wouldn't go out after dark" bit. But I didn't mind on this particular day. Angelina, Katie, Lee and I had arranged to meet the twins for dinner later, and a few of us knew enough to know that Fred had been carrying a ring around in his pocket for weeks. Katie in fact was already paging through catalogues to find a good dress.

I can't think of a very good way to end this really, because of course it's not over. That though, is quite the cliché. In fact there's a little voice in my head even now that's telling me that I've already been too sentimental, too mushy, and too sweet. For those of you who are curious, the voice sounds suspiciously like Angelina.

Unfortunately the real Angelina is yelling at me from the other room (something about veils, and that bloody Fred Weasley, and the complete impossibility of eating in this dress) so I really should go. Merlin knows we wouldn't want Angie fainting from hunger in her wedding dress. It would be ruined, and Katie would panic of course, and Angelina would be furious, and I'd probably be caught in the middle refereeing, and of course, fixing the dress.

The strangest, and possibly most frightening thing of all, is that the prospect doesn't particularly bother me.

I've clearly laid claim to my own special brand of insanity: I'm dating a Weasley, I've agreed to help plan Angelina Johnson's wedding, and I can't stop writing even as the shouts erupt from the other room.

I'm afraid that in order to preserve my eardrums, whatever sanity I have left, and possibly my life, I'm going to have to cut myself off.


End file.
